


Cotton Candy Hands

by Supersadural



Category: Supernatural
Genre: A ramble, Episode: s13e23 Let the Good Times Roll, Fluff, Gen, Hey Jude, I Don't Even Know, I Tried, Michael Possessing Dean Winchester, POV Mary Winchester, Post-Episode: s13e23 Let the Good Times Roll, Post-Season 13 Finale, Sad, Short One Shot, Spoilers for Episode: s13e23 Let the Good Times Roll, Young Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-26 23:53:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15673821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Supersadural/pseuds/Supersadural
Summary: Mary remembers Dean as he was in the 1980's, not as the man he is today. A one-shot scene about Mary's encounter with Michael!Dean post season-13 finale.





	Cotton Candy Hands

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic, and it's not very good. Sorry about that! It's quite short though, so hopefully you'll give it a try. 
> 
> *I also apologize for grammatical errors. I had nobody to proofread this.

Hey Jude, don’t make it bad 

 

She remembers his hands. But they were small. She remembers his laugh as a grasshopper tickled his palm, a laugh as sweet as the cotton candy ice cream cones that would melt in the Kansas sun and make his fingers all sticky with childhood delight, because who doesn’t want cotton candy fingers? She had a cotton candy-blue dress, his favorite dress (he told her), that she would wear to picnics. His hands would clutch the skirt when strangers said hello and she had to spend the whole afternoon scrubbing out the saturated stain of ice cream off the dress, silent tears falling down her cheeks because John had called and he wasn't coming home tonight. John wouldn’t be home tonight but her little boy’s hands never stopped holding hers as she wiped away the tears. She has to be strong for him, even though he's being strong enough for the both of them. 

 

Take a sad song, and make it better

 

She remembers his hands, but she doesn’t remember these hands. These hands have her pinned up against the concrete wall, one hand grasping the handle of the angel blade, pressing the cold metal up to her throat. These hands aren’t holding cotton candy anymore, they’re breaking skin and the knuckles are dripping with blood instead of ice cream. Sam yells in the distance but it sounds like white noise, it’s not real. Cas grunts beside her as he falls to the ground (he doesn’t have wings to protect himself anymore) but Jack does have his wings, and his are spread wide around Maggie. Mary wants the wings to envelop her boy, her boy that’s grown up and now has strange hands, her little boy’s hands looked big next to baby Sammy’s but now they’re taken from him and commandeered in his own body and it’s not fair. 

 

Remember to let her into your heart 

 

Mary wants him to know that she’s here, she loves him, she’s not going anywhere. Michael is holding the angel blade to her neck, a sick smile tugging at his lips, but Mary isn’t going anywhere, she’s going to be the one that’s strong enough for the both of them this time. She remembers his hands holding dandelions and baby brothers and love. She remembers his hands rubbing crayons into the table and she remembers them smelling like clearance soap and the neighbors wet dog and sunshine all at once. So Mary looks into his eyes (Dean always had expressive eyes, but these aren't really his so they're cold, silent) and starts to sing. 

 

Then you can start to make it better.

 

She sings her favorite song, the one she would sing at night as a lullaby. She sings with her eyes closed, so she doesn’t have to see his face when he puts the blade through her skin. She sings even though it hurts but that’s okay because endings always hurt, and this one isn’t any different. She sings to create her own wings to wrap around the both of them, the words keeping them safe from the hurt and the fighting. Somewhere during the third verse she hears the sound of metal hit the floor, and the pressure against her neck lessens a bit, but Mary is off dreaming of summer days and cotton candy. When she opens her eyes (finally), the eyes staring back at her are not Michael's and the hands that hold her aren’t sticky with ice cream anymore. But they’re gentle and soft again, so maybe she can learn to love these ones too.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment so I can get feedback on my first story. Again, I apologize for my haphazard writing style.


End file.
